Theories
by TheVeryWorstWriter
Summary: "Who needs math? Art is much more educational, I think. I doodled all over the paper. A chubby poodle, a flying race-car, a lunch box with a monkey on it, Cody swinging on vines in the jungle… Anything I could think of." MY THEORY: Zack has ADD and Cody has OCD and they don't tell anyone. When they find out about this, will they finally have something to relate to?
1. Coral, Or Orange Looking Pink?

**Kind of off track from writing my other story, but here is an idea I've had for a day and a half and I just wanted to know what you guys think. It will be completely in Zack's POV. If offend anyone, please don't take offese, kind of new to this whole psychology thing.**

I hate it when your whole life ends up being a lie. I mean, first you're pretending, then the next thing you know its reality. Life stinks.

Okay, backtrack. The new guidance counsellor called me in last week, and said she wanted to have daily sessions with me. At first I thought she was joking. I even said to her, "Is not doing your homework some sort of disorder?" I was met with a serious face and tone. This woman was dead serious. Apparently I exhibited a series of behaviours that told her there was some sort of long dumb scientific explanation for it.

Anyways, today after a whole week of boring questions and very long periods of sitting, (I mean a class alone is tough, but when you have to think and sit at the _same time_, you can't sit still) I was given a diagnosis. (Long words shouldn't exist, they just confuse people! There are ways to say things shortly…) Apparently, that means that there is a reason I act like I do.

ADD stands for Amazingly Desirable Dude. So, everybody is basically all over me because I am just so awesome. Just kidding, sadly… It stands for Attention Deficit Disorder. If you don't know what that means, go look it up because I don't want to explain it. I was given a sheet that said what disorder I have, symptoms, treatments… yada, yada, yada. I was just about to head to the office so I could phone my mom, when I saw my twin brother Cody head into the office.

What was he doing here? Did he have ADD, did he get an award? (No surprise there…) Was he being told about my diag-whatever? Gah, I'll just wait till he comes out. Wait for it…wait for it…wait for it…nope. Oh well, I can wait for five minutes, right?

After I pondered about what Cody was up to, my mind sorta wandered. Have you ever noticed how people overlook alpacas? I mean they bring in _so_ much more profit than llamas. I really want a dog, but the last person I told this to, said they heard a rumor about a dog so big, it squashed an old lady! Now that's unrealistic and yet… _so cool! _Maybe a Chihuahua would be better than a Great Dane. Have you ever noticed how big their ears are? I mean compared to their little bodies they are HUGE!

Once I snapped back to reality, I realised that the GC was right. This is so cool! Now Cody can't criticize me for getting a D in English today! Wait a minute… Cody…was in the GC room right now! Hope he comes out soon.

There we go! Here he comes, time to unload my question gun. Cheesy, I know, but it is quite accurate.

"What are you doing here?" He jumped five feet in the air. What if… what if he jumped TEN feet in the air? Ha, he'd probably go right through the ceiling!

"W-what are you doing here? Don't scare me like that!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm here to find out what you're doing here!"

"Good point and… I don't want to talk about it…"

"Talk about what?"

"That I have… Wait a minute…you're trying to trick me."

"Guilty. But seriously, I'm your brother and I have a right to know these kinds of things."

"I don't want to talk about it," he started walking.

"Stop, I'll tell you why I was here, if you tell me why you were here."

He turned and I noticed that he had a pink slip as well. How would I describe it… hot pink mixed in with a touch of orange?

"Zack," he was waving his hand in front of my face. "Did you even hear me?"

"Hear what?"

"I said that I have OCD."

"Huh? Oh, and I have ADD!"

"I'll explain later, and why are you so excited about that?"

"I dunno, and is that slip coral, or just an orange-looking pink?"


	2. Dr Looney

**A/N: This is not what actually happens when you have these disorders. I don't really know, so I winged it. Enjoy!**

**P.S. A_ttention_** **D_eficit_** **D_isorder _(ADD)** **is the same as A_ttention _D_eficit/_H_yperactivity _D_isorder_** **(ADHD)**

My brother and I decided not to tell mom. She had enough worries already. Especially with her being so tired after every show that she automatically takes a nap when she gets back. I mean, who wouldn't be with you trying to console every fan of hers. She told us that some of her fans are very delicate, that she has to stay away so they don't faint in her presence. I led her on to think I actually believed her.

So the GC has given us these private classes. Our principle has paid so that everybody with a diagnosed disorder can be taught specific classes alone. But since I didn't want to be taught all by myself, we are taught together. Cody blamed me, but who would want to be stuck in private sessions by themselves?

My pencil has a weird feeling on my fingers. I guess when you bring it to science class, and you don't need it, you find some use for it. Such as: putting it in unknown liquids to test out the formula. Needless to say, it deteriorated. What else could I bring to the science lab?

So there are these private sessions. Did I say that already? We have one session a day, or more if it is severe. Cody needs to have a different one then me, but we are kept together since it is easier.

I entered the unfamiliar room beside my brother. It looked kinda like that dyslexia room, but it was smaller. Like our janitors' closet! Our janitor puts all this crazy stuff – stay on topic, stay on topic. Our teacher was a small lady. Sort of like how we pictured Mr. Moseby's mother. She was sort of intimidating though. Her glasses were attached to her neck on a chain necklace and she had the thickest brown hair I've seen. Funny how necklace sounds exactly like neck-less! Who would've thought?

She had beady eyes like that squirrel in the park! That squirrel was nasty…coincidence, I think not. The GC's theory is that, since we're family, we'll be able to help each other out by giving each other support. Well, if I don't support Cody, can I blame it on my ADD?

The first session was for Cody. They were supposed to expose him to his fears or whatever and reassure them it'll be okay. When you look at him, you don't immediately think he has OCD. He looks like a normal kid. But this session proved to me that the image I have of my twin, was completely wrong. When he washes his hands with sanitizer twice after somebody shook his hand, I thought he was doing it to get the attention on him, to be humorous. Then again, it kinda is funny watching him do it though. Aw, now I feel guilty. Stupid conscience.

"So… Cody," she began, pen in hand and a clipboard in the other. "Do you feel you have to do things a certain number of times, in a certain pattern?"

Cody huffed and rolled his eyes, "I've already answered this question, and it's a yes."

"Could you explain to me which certain things?"

I opened my mouth but Cody covered it with his very clean hand. I impulsively licked it, and he jerked back in alarm. I resisted the urge to belt out in laughter. He grabbed a tissue and started wiping his hand. "Uh… I don't know…"

Without him seeing, every time he wiped his hands on the tissue, I put up a digit. Wipe…one…wipe…two…wipe…three…wipe…four…wipe…five…w ipe…six. I wonder if you can portray six fingers with one hand all in a single motion. Hmm… I'll have to try that at home.

"Do I have to answer that question right now?" The psychologist almost smiled. "No need, young man." He sighed in relief. She started writing on her clipboard. I imagined her having the messiest writing possible… like a four year old. I had to stop myself from laughing by my hand to my mouth. She put on her glasses and gave me a glare.

"You have a name, nana?" I chuckled and Cody just gasped. I realised what I had just said and I gasped in return.

"Dr. Looney."

I snickered and thought about saying a couple of things I shouldn't. Instead, I whispered to Cody something else. "Should we really trust this Looney?" Cody didn't react like he should've; I mean c'mon, that was awesome. But he did crack a smile.

All I can say is: I got kicked out. But, I was making it interesting and not boring! Would you rather hear somebody questioning your sanity, or your brother making hilarious jokes about the Looney teacher?

The next class was better, but Cody offered me no support whatsoever. I guess I did deserve it, considering his last class… First they needed to put me through a couple of stimulations so they could figure out my response pattern. They gave me a math sheet.

A math sheet… really? I got halfway through the quiz and then I started to get bored. Who wouldn't? Question 9 was: "create the multiplication table." How are you supposed to remember… how many numbers are in there? I started creating a square, and then I thought the line looked like the table in our kitchen. A multiplication table! How could I be so stupid?

I started drawing an actual table and a cutting board on top. The next thing I know, I'm drawing math-symbol-shaped apples. They looked very well drawn if I do say so myself. Who needs math? Art is much more educational, I think. I doodled all over the paper. A chubby poodle, a flying race-car, a lunch box with a monkey on it, Cody swinging on vines in the jungle… Anything I could think of.

"Time's up!" I looked at the page and started to panic. Was I being graded on this? Oh, no! What if they show it to mom! Then I'll be in real trouble. Oh wait, I have ADD. Oh wait, I didn't tell her.


	3. Déjà vu

**I was doing some research and found there is another disorder that has a very similar name to OCD, but it very different. Definitions at the bottom.**

I handed in the paper, and the weird dude checked it over. "Mhmm, I see…" He kept putting down marks on my page. When I got it back, I see he didn't correct any of my work. He put down: "Very creative drawings," and "Well done." I was confused, I did horrible. I'm not good at math, and I'm not even a very good drawer…at least…when it comes to drawing Cody. I can never draw him right; it always looks like a blob with eyes on it. I even wasn't feeling sympathetic enough to give him his beautiful mane.

I got an envelope at the end of the day, signed by Weird Dude. It looked somewhat like a report card. I shrugged it off and waited for Cody. He was never, ever late. And when he was, he was none too happy about it. He always looked sorta scared for his life if he didn't show up on time. I don't think something bad will happen in that short amount of time anyways.

I checked my pocket for some candies that always somehow turned up in there. I wonder why I didn't eat all of them right away… must've got distracted as always. I thought about our psychologists: Looney and Weird Dude. I felt bad for Cody, his therapy was all about exposing him to his fears, and mine was about encouraging. I think Cody can handle it as he always does.

"Hey Cody," I said when he appeared by my side. "How was your session?" Cody just started to wipe his hands on his tissue, over and over, six times. "She made me stick my hand in a bucket of some goo, and told me to only wipe my hand two times. What if I missed some, I could get sick! Who knows what kind of unknown chemicals are in there?" I chuckled but stopped when he seemed completely serious.

"Well…man, Looney probably knows how many times you have to wipe your hands to get it off. She's done this a million times before."

"I-I guess you're right." He threw the tissue in the garbage.

"So, should we tell mom now? Apparently there is some part of the treatment she has to do too."

"Should we?" I started to open my mouth but it was a rhetorical question. "We should. She needs to know, so she can be thoroughly notified." I threaded my fingers together and started to circulate my thumbs around each other.

_Later…_

Mom was pacing, staring at the orange-looking pink slip. "When did you get this?"

Cody replied before I could even think of answering, "Yesterday."

She went up to me and bent down. "Zack, I am so sorry for yelling at you because of your grades!" She paused a minute before continuing. "Huh. Déjà vu. Oh honey, what kind of mother am I?" I realised she said the EXACT same thing when I pretended I was dyslexic. I decided to play along. She suddenly grabbed me and squished me in an enormous hug. "One that's smothering her son!"

Cody started snickering. He saw the connection too, I guess. Next she came over to him, "I'm sorry I was bugging you all those times before! It was something you _had _to do." Cody returned her hug, but cautiously. His eyes darted back and forth.

Mom decided to buy every pamphlet and book on the subjects of ADD and OCD. We were dragged behind. Not literally… but… oh, you know what I mean! I pictured us literally being dragged and it was pretty similar to what is going on right now. So… you could say we were semi-dragged behind her. Wow, I over-analyse.

She bought two books from the same publisher. From the title, I'm not sure if they are actually a reliable source: 'How to Parent an OCD child: For Dummies' and 'How to Parent an ADD child: For Dummies'. Did she do that on purpose, do you think? I don't think it is that extreme. I mean, I have trouble learning, and paying attention, but I've been getting better. I get enough D's to at least pass the grade. I'm wandering again. Keep walking, don't get left behind.

The next day at school, Cody had an extra long session. I don't know why, but it seemed important. I was stuck in the hall outside the room for about twenty minutes, thinking how funny and gross it would be if people grew hair on their ears, and if unicorn monkeys actually existed. Cody came out with another pink slip. I grabbed it, without him having time to grab it back.

It said: New Diagnose for Cody Martin, OCPD. I was about to ask, but when I looked at him, he had his head down and didn't look too happy. I looked at the pink slip again. O_bsessive _C_ompulsive _P_ersonality _D_isorder._ I don't understand what it means, but it didn't sound too good.

**Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder: Where the patient doesn't act fully out of fear and anxiety, but rather because of the philosophy or belief that they are right and that, and when they don't do it their way, produces anxiety and frustration. Combined with the perfectionist's view on everything.**

**Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: When the patient feels, as though if they don't do a certain ritual, something bad will happen. For example, if they don't wash their hands twenty times before they open the door, their mother may contract a life-ending disease from the doorknob. Anxiety, fear, and depression are common.**


	4. A Wig on a Guitar

**Review for more!**

I wasn't that surprised when I found out what it meant. I mean, it all makes sense now! Why he repeatedly reminds me that he's the smart one, and I'm the dumb one. Why he gets so frustrated when I set the table, or clean our room. (Barely happens anyways.) He has to always do it himself, and when someone else does it the exact same way he does, he always points out some error that he had before and blames it on us. I know it's not his fault, and that it's a rare disorder, but that doesn't stop me from disliking those events.

Weird Guy gave me a sketchbook. I don't know why, but based on what my quiz probably looked like, I kinda understand the gesture.

I took a sketching pencil out and started to draw whatever came to mind. Bet you can't guess! I'm drawing a wig on a guitar! Or whatever that blob is… It could possibly be Cody, or that stray dog downtown that you always see. People think he has rabies, so nobody bothers to find his owner. Nobody has even called animal control.

Cody walks in the room. "What are you doing in my room," I blurt, not thinking it fully through before it came out.

"First of all, it's our room. Second, what in the world are you drawing?"

"A wig on a guitar…" He didn't seem to hear me as he ponders some more. He looks at the sketchbook, then back at me. "It looks like something bit a chunk out of a skateboard."

"Or that…" I sigh. "I don't really care. But, what do you think took a chunk out of it?"

"Well, it looks too big to be a dog bite, and it looks too small to be Bigfoot."

"Does it look like a shark-bite? That would be so cool!"

"How would a skateboard, end up in the water?"

"Maybe it's a surfboard."

"I don't think so. See, it has wheels!"

"Those are rocks."

"Then they are badly drawn rocks…"

"Whatever."

So he concluded that somebody littered by throwing their skateboard in the ocean where a shark thought it was a big fish. It couldn't have been accidently littered, like I gently suggested, it had to be purposely littered. I didn't bother arguing much after that.

"So what's for dinner?" I ask him, mom let him cook tonight after a heated debate on food-poisoning.

"We're having a roulade stuffed with chicken, feta cheese, a hint of basil, and wrapped in delicious slices of prosciutto!"

"I have no idea what you just said, but it's probably going to be tasty, so go ahead and make it!" I push him out of our room and head back in our room.

I was in my own little world, doing crazy stuff to keep myself entertained. I hadn't been grounded in two weeks, so I decided that it was time to get grounded again.

Mr. Moseby is an unsuspecting little man. I mean, he always catches me, after the deed has been done for a good two hours. So I am probably okay until after dinner. I always have a list of pranks that I've never done before. I am proud to call them my own ideas because, unlike most people, I didn't use the internet to think of one.

Call me an artist of pranking if you will. I'm gonna do some of the classics today. Couldn't find my list, and I was running out of time. I have a stash of items I use daily for this kind of thing. Ketchup, mustard, and a kazoo… check, check, and… check. Party's started. I tiptoe out of the suite without Cody noticing.

I pressed a button on the elevator for the lobby. It had to stop to get another person. Just my luck… just my luck! I grabbed my portable ketchup bottle, and squirted some in the pocket of his tux. This is too easy.

First stop, the lobby. I got my bottle of ketchup ready, and I started walking nonchalantly. Squirt here, squirt some over there… some in Mr. Moseby's pocket, some in… wait, I like Esteban, so I'll skip him. You owe me buddy. Some over in that old lady's purse, that guy's purse… I ran out of ketchup so I started using mustard. And trust me; those kinds of stains are very hard to get out. I speak from experience.

After those deeds were done, I head over to the ventilation system, and close it behind me. I sneak around until I find out where the birthday party's being held. Look at that, Mr. Moseby's in there! That man must sure have a lot of motor power in those tiny legs of his. The guest who's having a birthday party, looked around his mid forties. Don't they stop having birthday parties at thirty or something? Who knows?

Mr. Moseby was being very hospitable. He was showing him around and reassuring him, everything would be okay. Not for long, mwahahaha! They started singing "Happy Birthday!" and I took out my kazoo. Every time they said: "to you!" I play a very annoying sound. It sounds like a dying goose that's choking from moms cooking. I imagined the scene and almost give away my position by laughing.

I quickly got out of the vent and rushed to my suite. Mr. Moseby's going to kill me! Let's hope I can avoid that… Cody was still in the process of cooking. He didn't see me leave, so I hope he won't see me come in. I crawled to our room, and started to sketch some more. There was a loud knock on the door, and Cody yelled, "I'll get it!"

I pressed my ear against the door and listened to their conversation.

"I'm here to see Zack. He ruined my guest's tuxedos and party!"

"I think you might be wrong, you see, he's in our room sketching. Well… last time I checked… I'll go see."

"May I come in?"

"Sure, Mr. Moseby," I heard the sound of footsteps enter the suite.

Cody headed to our room and opened the door. I race to my bed and grab my book.

"Don't you ever knock?" I hide my grin with a look of annoyance.

"Phew, you're here! Mr. Moseby, I was right, he never left the suite!"

Mr. Moseby pops his head into the doorway. "You… did it… somehow…"

"Please Mr. Moseby. I was here, innocently drawing!" I show him my sketchbook.

He looks at it closely then replies, "What is that? It looks like something bit a chunk out of a skateboard."

I sigh (again), "It's a wig on a guitar…"

"It can't be… I see wheels!"

"Those are _rocks…_"


End file.
